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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29396676">The Crimson Massacre</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/nikkori_writing/pseuds/nikkori_writing'>nikkori_writing</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes &amp; Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Victorian, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Drug Use, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Forbidden Love, Hallucinations, Mrs. Hudson Ships It, Post-Episode: The Abominable Bride, Serial Killers, Sex, Sherlock Holmes &amp; John Watson Friendship, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Victorian Sherlock Holmes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 09:14:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>21,262</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29396676</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/nikkori_writing/pseuds/nikkori_writing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"To Sherlock Holmes, she is always The Woman." </p><p>Weeks after the Ricoletti case, where all seemed to be moving smoothly, London was once again brought back to hell when a double murder had occurred in one of their houses. Sherlock Holmes and John Watson are called upon to investigate. But it seems as if the case has more to it than meets the eye and what happens if someone from the detective's past had come back to him? </p><p>Will he be able to take the case?</p><p>• ⚜ • ⚜ • ⚜ • ⚜ •</p><p>Set in the London Victorian Era and after the events of "The Abominable Bride" with slight changes in the case and additional characters from the Sherlock Holmes books. Do tell me if my Characterization or how I write from the perspective of the characters doesn't fit them and I'll try my best to fix the errors.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Irene Adler &amp; Sherlock Holmes, Irene Adler/Sherlock Holmes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. It's Just A Friend</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A/N:</p>
<p>To avoid further confusion along the way, everything that has happened in the book "A Scandal in Bohemia" and in the BBC Sherlock adaptation "A Scandal in Belgravia" is mixed in this chapter. There would also be additional lines from me to connect some stuff.</p>
<p>Anyway, enjoy, and keep safe everyone :))</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>| 24th March 1888 |</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>221B Baker Street</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>- Midnight -</strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>"This might not alarm you in any way but, Holmes often talks... As if I'm still in the flat. Sorry... In advance."</em>
  </p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>
    <em>Dr. John Watson gave her a quick smile as he made his way down the wooden stairs of 221B Baker Street while The Woman follows him after, staying at the very last step.</em>
  </p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>
    <em>"Not to worry, Dr. Watson, I won't be shooting a gun at him even if I had the chance." Irene gave him an amused smirk. To think this man treated his best friend like a child was most entertaining to watch.</em>
  </p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>
    <em>"Right, uhm..." The man began to open and close his hands, a little habit to sustain his pounding heart. "So, I'll be gone for the rest of the night. Are you sure you and Holmes won't do anything while I am occupied?" Watson asks before stepping out into the night, wearing more presentable clothing.</em>
  </p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>
    <em>She notices a small flower, attached inside the breast pocket of his suit jacket before he fixes his coat. Giving her the idea about his plans for the rest of the night.</em>
  </p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>
    <em>Having that thought in mind, the woman offered him a gentle smile "I can assure you, Dr. Watson, with Sherlock Holmes lost in his mind palace, I wouldn't do the pleasure of disturbing his peace."</em>
  </p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>
    <em>Watson lets out a small chuckle and soon reaches out to his hat. The good doctor looks down to the rigid floor and takes one deep breath before looking back at the woman. Knowing the gaze he offers her, he could say something that would affect all her plans for the night. So she beats him to it.</em>
  </p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>
    <em>"Don't worry yourself too much, doctor. Enjoy the night."</em>
  </p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>
    <em>He stood there, his brows had risen almost to his hairline from a discovering something she didn't quite catch on. Then he only offers her a nod. Though, before he enters the cab that awaits him, Watson calls her out.</em>
  </p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>
    <em>"Keep Holmes safe, Ms. Adler."</em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p> </p>
<p>Those were the words of the army doctor before he left the woman and the vicinity. And indeed, it had her heart tremble from his words.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The moon had risen from the rooftops and stars began to shine in the black of the night sky. Clad in what she assumes, his favorite blue dressing gown, and once again, with nothing underneath, Irene Adler remains in 221B Baker Street and still under the protection of the infamous Consulting Detective, Sherlock Holmes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The woman occupies herself and looks inside the cupboards for tea and began to prepare warm water. Once done, she sets the tea set by the small table nearest to Watson's chair and sat herself down, taking one of the cups in her grasp. She stayed there, observing him as he plucks of the strings of his violin, his eyes towards the floor though his mind someplace else.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sherlock Holmes. With his pictures shown to her when she had been warned about his sudden investigation about the photograph of the king alongside her that Adler has in her grasp, she was quite... Intrigued by him. A flash of admiration, fascination, and maybe something more as she had her attention on him during the past days, awaiting the day that he might be brought to light about the king of Bohemia's plea.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He was, and here they were. Inches apart from the other with the fire blazing in between while she was still under his protection that he had done without a second thought. And without giving her a chance to say no. The reason behind such a bold move was beyond her.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And still occupied in his mind palace, the whole flat remained quiet and calm. It didn't bother her, it was better this way. Adler has an opportunity to think over everything that she would do tonight. Her plan mustn't be ruined by one man who could see through every crack in the lense.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>This game was near its end and there wouldn't be any winners, simply people who would fear for their lives and the lives of others. She's made her choice. Nothing would ever stop her now.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And she couldn't allow him to do that.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Coventry."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He spoke suddenly and looks up from the ground, though not much of a surprise for her to get startled. Still, her brows rose, her attention had once again shifted back at him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Never been." She answered right after, a statement to connect with his abrupt word. A feeling of amusement rolls through her heart.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And he stares at her as if she was something he hasn't seen before. The woman had lived long enough to foresee what the man, who was thought to be just a machine, had given off from just the slight widening of his grey eyes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>But no. This wasn't supposed to happen.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Is it nice?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She could see his eyes scan his room immediately after his visit in his head. "Where's Watson?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"He... Left a couple of hours ago."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I was just talking to him..."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She let out a small chuckle "He said you'd do that..."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He didn't speak then, still keeping his eyes on her. A sign that wasn't to her liking. Adler knew what those eyes tried so hard not to convey. Because it mirrors what hers were trying to hide. She knew he observed her, figuring her out like she was the hardest puzzle, and the only one he couldn't solve. His attention was on her and it was his disadvantage.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>No matter. The night is almost at its end. And he wouldn't be able to give his attention all for her. She will close this case and end this game that she wasn't willing to play. Not while this man was one of the pieces on the board.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"What does Coventry have to do with anything..?" However, she spoke to him. And it was irritable that he was obliged to answer her.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"It was a story- probably not true... " he took a brief pause, observing her, waiting for her reaction "In the Second World War, the Allies knew Coventry was going to get bombed because they'd violated the German code but didn't want the Germans to notice. They allowed it transpire, nevertheless..."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>So willing, so desperate to show off and it hurts her. She was his disadvantage and he was hers. He wouldn't admit it but they were as clear as day from his eyes. Windows to the soul indeed. This was a mistake. She's seen too much, felt so much and she needed to leave, now. But denying the force that pulls her towards him was to deny his. But it didn't matter to her now.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>However, for the great Sherlock Holmes to be a lover, he would put himself in a false position. And she wouldn't take the pleasure of being its cause. He needed a reason to stay away.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Have you ever had anyone..?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She spoke close to a whisper, almost breathless that she catches herself too late. Though this might be the last night she'll see the consulting detective. She might as well leave him something to remember her by.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"... I'm sorry..?" He asks in complete confusion of the subject she had unexpectedly brought up.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The detective watches as she rolls her eyes and offers him that one familiar smirk "And when I say 'had', I'm being indelicate."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I don't understand." He spoke instantly, and truly he doesn't. The Woman was an endless line of question marks and even as she was this open to him, he still couldn't see through her mask that she so held high.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A puzzle on both ends of a case was too much work, but she was more than just a simple puzzle.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I'll be delicate then."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Adler then rises to her feet, walks towards him, and began to kneel before him in one graceful move. Holmes then feels his right hand grew warmer, looking at it, and was soon greeted by her hand on top of him. His hand slightly twitches during contact, relief flooding through him knowing that The Woman had not noticed. And that it might not have mattered for her very blue eyes were connected to his the entire time.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Let's have dinner."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He felt his head shook, his brows furrowed "Why?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"You might be hungry."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I'm not."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Good." She ends with a smile, this time, as it was to his surprise, a genuine one.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And then there it was. Multiple beats. His eyes drift to their hands and his answers had done a good job to blind him from the truth. She was nervous about something. What was she uneasy about? Although with this, she still held her smile. Every was happening so fast, his own heart that beats the same rhythm, and his head clouded with different theories, couldn't cope with the turn of events.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Why would I have dinner..." He starts, he hears his voice, low, he spoke as if he had been breathless from running a mile "if I wasn't hungry..?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Oh, Mr. Holmes... If it was the end of the world and this was the very last night..." Her eyes drift from his lips to his own "Would you have dinner with me..?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Her eyes remain on his, and his remains on her, not bother to get lost in them. And now barely inches apart from each other, he couldn't help but take her all in. Her scent, the delicate curls of her dark brown hair, her long lashes, those deep red lips, and oh God, her eyes. Looking at them, and he could almost see his reflection. Whatever it was between them, he felt as if he was being pulled towards the woman. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The woman who just so happens to make the king of Bohemia seek his help for a considerable amount of photographs, and something from the queen whereas it was his brother dear that came for his aid. The Woman, who lead a nation down to their knees with as simple as a smile and a walk inside the vicinity. The same woman who was still clad in his blue dressing gown and who had him all in her grasp. Though one more push and-</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Mr. Holmes?" Mrs. Hudson then calls from below and had cut whatever it was that almost pulled them to the other.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Too late."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"That's not the end of the world, that's Mrs. Hudson."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>With no other than a small chuckle, Adler then rises to her full height and lets go of Holmes' hand. She scurries off into the kitchen, basking underneath the dark that she wasn't so visible to the landlady and the two of The king's coachmen.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Mr. Holmes, these men were at the door, have you not heard their knocking?" The landlady complains.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Though Sherlock ignores her complaints with a sarcastic question of his own "Have you come to take me to the king, once again?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Yes, Mr. Holmes."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Well, I decline."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He hears the man let out a sigh "The King is not the only one who asks of your presence, Mr. Holmes."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sherlock looks back at the coachmen with his eyes slightly wide in shock. Processing what he said, he glances at The Woman inside the dark kitchen, he finds her eyes. Ah yes of course he needed to be there to see it as well. Because it wasn't just pictures that The Woman took. There was something more valuable.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sherlock finally stands, his hands in his pockets "Well then, if it would seem so, I do apologize for my previous behavior. Now, if you don't mind, I would like to look presentable for the king and my brother. Mrs. Hudson, please do show these men the way out."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Although hesitant, the old woman kindly obliged and walks ahead of them murmuring something close to "this way, gentlemen" on their way out. Once again, the flat was left one with only Holmes and The Woman. He turns his heel and walks towards his bedroom. It didn't take him long to walk out with monotone colored clothing, his coat on his arm he adjusts his gloves.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Though before stepping out of his flat to the stairs, he stops his tracks and looks back at the woman who finally made her way out of the dark and back to Watson's armchair. He stood there with difficulty of saying something before he leaves and she watches him, an eyebrow arched to question his sudden pause.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He opens his mouth "... Try not to misbehave while I'm gone, Ms. Adler."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Again, she gives him that bloody smirk, always amused. Was he that worried? Why would he be worried? She can occupy herself with something in this flat of his. Most likely would be his collection of novels. He needn't be... worried about her.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Not to worry, Mr. Holmes," she says and it pulls him out of his thoughts. "You have quite the collection of novels here that I might find entertaining than misbehaving."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>".... Flattering."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Adler let out a hum and her lips formed into a smirk. She was enjoying herself too much now, as much as he didn't want to admit. Though it was she who he was conversing with, it shouldn't startle him if he was already that predictable. Was he that predictable? He pushes the thought at the back of his head and looks back at his current opponent. The last thing he wants is to agree with his opponent.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sherlock clears his throat "Now, for your safety," he then holds up his arm and opens his hand "The envelope."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Her eyes narrowed, the smirk still there "... Why?" She asked as if to tease him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"You've said it yourself this afternoon. You don't understand what it is that you hold in your grasp, except your photographs. And I assume you'll acknowledge the validity that running and hiding... Or dying would be an awful way to live the rest of your life."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He hears her take a breath, slowly as if to calm her senses, her lips closed in a thin line. He wins this round but he doesn't dare grin in triumph, even if as he feels the corners of his lips tugging upwards. Adler then reaches for the drawer near Watson's armchair and digs out the familiar brown envelope. She stands not so far from Holmes but doesn't extend her hands.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Irene looks down at the envelope and her grip tightens. Grasping her life's work, her only protection from the world once last time. At least, Holmes assumes she is. And finally, she lets out a breath and gives up the envelope with both hands with Holmes accepting it. Though when he pulls, the envelope stays, alarming Sherlock, and his eyes find hers once again, head full of questions. And even for just a glimpse, even as she looks down to the carpeted floor, he reads her expression.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Fear.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Her grip eased and he takes the opportunity to pull it from her hands, gently and it surprises him. How this woman would open new doors in him that he didn't know were there. Her hands fall to her sides and she began to sit back down on the armchair while he made his escape before he does something he'd possibly regret.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sherlock passes by Mrs. Hudson, not bothering to acknowledge her attempts to call for him, something about a letter. But no matter, he had closed the door of 221B behind him and enters the cab.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Irene listens for the door to close and soon sighs. Now, to set the plan in action. But a knock stops her from her tracks and she looks in the direction of the noise, greeted by the Sherlock Holmes' landlady, smiling ever so sweetly and Irene can't help but return the kind gesture.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Oh, look at you in Mr. Holmes' dressing gown! I don't really see women wearing it very often, and I may not know you so well, but it somehow suits you." The old woman giggles and Irene follows. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Oh! I almost forgot!" She says and stretches her hand towards her, her hand that holds a small white envelope, and her heart had skipped a beat. Not something out of sentiment, but trepidation.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Im sorry but... what is this..?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"See, I tried asking Mr. Holmes if he knew about this letter but he seemed preoccupied with going out. So I assumed it was for you."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>She feels wary of the envelope yet she reaches out for it. Who was it from and how did they know where to send the telegraph? Was she in danger? Is he after the files given to Sherlock too?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Numerous questions fly inside her head and as soon as she flips the letter, and oh so familiar seal reveals itself. A sigh of relief escapes her lips.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>'Remain Calm, Adler, it's just Godfrey... ' </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"So? Who on earth is it from?" Ask the old lady as she peers from her shoulder.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Irene builds back her smile "Oh, it's just from a friend." She responds and the woman turns to see the old woman as he gasps.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Dear! So it isn't just Mr. Holmes then?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Her brows furrowed "It isn't just..." And then it finally dawned to her, the meaning behind those words. "Oh my... Mrs. Hudson, Mr. Holmes, and I were never a couple!"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Oh dear, is that so? Then why are you here then?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Oh he didn't tell you, didn't he?" Irene attempts to suppress her laugh "He accidentally burned my house just to reveal where I've hidden what was her precious to me." <strong>[1]</strong></p>
<p> </p>
<p>The Woman almost gives up her attempts as she sees how the old lady stumps her boot on the carpeted floor "Oh, that man and his silly ways! He could've just asked! I will have a word with him when he returns!"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The Woman chuckles "Do not tire yourself over such trivial matters, Ms. Hudson. I assure you Mr. Holmes didn't mean to do what he did and he wouldn't be concerning himself of me anymore."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The old lady's temper had cooled down and was now looking a bit blue "Oh? And why is that..?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And out of the blue, Adler had offered the landlady her a soft smile. She motions to the letter in her hands.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I'll be leaving London for a while."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Is that so? My, it really was a pleasure to have you around here even if you bought so much clothing and in the end only wore his dressing gown." Ms. Hudson then places a hand on her shoulder "Yet only for a short while, it was quite enjoyable to see Mr. Holmes interact with a woman."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Her hand then gave one last tight grasp on her shoulder and soon lets go. Oh if only this woman had known what she's done just to survive. If she knew what she was about to do to the great Sherlock Holmes just to keep her distance, she would've tossed her out before she had the chance to enter Baker Street. Ms. Hudson was too kind. Irene didn't believe she deserved this.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Anyhow, I'll be taking that tea set and you get a good night's sleep! I'll be the one to tell Mr. Holmes about your departure."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Adler awaits the woman to walk out of her view and finally opens the not using the small blade that held Holmes,' unsolved cases. Taking a deep breath before pulling out the small telegraph. Adler reads and couldn't help but close her eyes as if the message burned like the scorching sun.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>| Good evening, Love. I think it's time, don't you?</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> <strong>Godfrey Norton</strong> </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>To be continued...</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>-<strong>[1]</strong> I recommend reading/watching that manga/anime called "Yūkoku no Moriarty" (Moriarty the Patriot). It focuses on Moriarty's veiw but "A Scandal in Bohemia" is still there though uvu</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Her Grand Performance</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A/N:</p>
<p>Long chapters from this point on so it might take me a while to write it and think of the plot here. Again, "A Scandal in Belgravia" and "A Scandal in Bohemia" are mixed in this chapter.</p>
<p>Kudos and Comments are appreciated</p>
<p>Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>| 24th of March 1888 |</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>Holmes Manor</strong>
</p>
<p>
  <strong>Midnight</strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The horse's hoofs stomping on the hollow dirt ground continue to occupy him from his irrelevant thoughts about The Woman he had left and entrusted the care of his home to while he was on his way to pay report back to the King of Bohemia and his dear brother.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Having brought to light by the news of a certain woman who, not only possessed a photograph of herself and the king but possessed something more that it had taken his brother's awareness over the matter was too good to pass on. Yes, The Woman had a certain skill set forged from her occupations, and that is of sorts, were very useful and remarkably dangerous for those who had been caught up in her web. Manipulation of the human heart was her most dominant weapon on the battlefield and she used it with ease. Regardless, he wouldn't give her the pleasure of seeing him in awe of her talent. Knowing this, his mind had started to slowly dawn over his mind.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He raises a question to himself, <em>'What was The Woman's motive?'</em> He had considered possibilities of such matters but never fully grasp the subject in mind. Often referring to a certain use for protection wasn't helping him piece the puzzle either. Protection from who? What could she have committed that it would lead the King to send his agents in her house and be ordered to kill her? His mind clouded once again with a hundred questions concerning The Woman as he made his way inside the dark halls of the Manor, illuminated by the moon's soft glow. He would ask her after all her mess is put to rest.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He finally reached the very familiar vast double doors with Anthea, Mycroft's subordinate. Her expression stayed as it is while opening the door to his brother's study, greeted also by the king who paced the room while the older Holmes looked out his window. Both men that had once been occupied in their minds had their attention shift to Sherlock's direction. From his peripheral vision, he sees Anthea takes a bow and soon closed the door.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Evening, brother mine." Mycroft was first to seize the silence in the room "I am pleased to see you've obliged to this meeting without making much of a havoc."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sherlock let out an odious chuckle, Mycroft responds with furrowed brow "Oh, but I wouldn't want to miss this for the world, brother."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Most amusing." The older Holmes almost spat his words but soon regained his composure on the matter and clears his throat. But somehow, the slight twitching of the corner of his mouth, the small sigh, and how his shoulder wasn't on guard. This wasn't the Mycroft he knew.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>But that wasn't the case now. He shakes the thought out of his head.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Moving on, I do apologize for the sudden invite, but a matter has come to light concerning the files from the British Government. And on such matters, the queen herself had gone out of her way to inform me."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Once again, you state the obvious. Dont tell me you've gotten ordinary like the others, have you brother mine?" the younger mocks as he made his way to one of the armchairs in the study.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I... I'm sorry..?" The King chimed in and Mycroft offered him a small glance.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"So, you've known?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Of course I know she's not only taken a photograph for protection. Did you think I was that slow to notice the Americans that ambushed us before the fire? Do understand carefully brother, I was thorough with this case."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mycroft could do nothing but continue, due to the fact of the King's presence in the room. Sherlock assumes and he chuckles as he feels triumphed for his little win. Though he was proved wrong as soon as Mycroft had offered him the same devilish smirk as before.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Oh, look at you. Happy now, are we?" Sherlock turns to the sudden remark, making the younger's assumptions crumbling into pieces.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He missed something crucial.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Irritated, he asks "What are you on about now?" Walking by the other end of the room near the fireplace.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Both Holmes watched the King shift and went to sit down by the nearest armchair, holding his head with both hands in defeat. "It would seem, we have all been caught up in a <em>web</em>, wouldn't you agree?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sherlock desperately looked for the answers in his brother's face and to the King, but to no avail. He hated being in the dark, having dead-ends with certain cases. It was infuriating. The missing piece in the puzzle. He closes his eyes tight, trying his hardest to look for the final piece but everything led from one end to another.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"But that's all it takes isn't it?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sherlock shot his brother a look. He feels his hands form into fists inside the pockets of his coat, tightening as if it might draw blood. He hadn't liked where this was going.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"One lonely naive man desperate to show off. And a woman clever enough to make him feel special..."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The younger Holmes watches his brother who was unmoved, not guarded but stood high and confident alongside his words. As if he was waiting for him to assert the right answer. Sherlock looks over to the king, also watching.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Your majesty has already been tangled in this web you speak of and he doesn't wish to speak of this any further -"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I'm not talking about the king Sherlock I'm talking about YOU!"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He spoke in a deep cold tone as the older Holmes finally loses his composure, slamming the end of his umbrella on the carpeted floor. Though unmoved, he feels the familiar sting somewhere inside him. Does such a feeling prove one has a heart?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"The damsel in distress. And in the end, are you really so obvious? Because this was textbook..."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>No, it can't be true. </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"What..."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"The promise of love, the joy of redemption. And give him a puzzle... And watch him dance."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And with that, everything had dawned over him. His eyes go wide, his blood running cold, his heart stops. Had he been so... Blind from all this? And just because-</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Don't be absurd!" Sherlock almost spat his response as he marched his way in front of his brother.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Absurd?" The older Holmes lets out a laugh "And you say it was me turning <em>ordinary</em>. Tell me then," he pauses and made his way to the displayed glass of scotch by the table and pours himself a drink "how well of an actress was she to convince you of her surrender?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And before he had gotten his words out, which he presumed wouldn't even come out, the dark wooden double doors open. Anthea comes in first, positioning herself by the side and who comes after was what the great Sherlock Holmes had, for the first time, fear of seeing.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Irene Adler walked inside the study room, her hair up like the first they'd met and she wore a black dress that had supported her cold facade at its finest. She stood tall, stopping by shortly after, and offered a silent greeting to both the nearest man in front of her but as soon as she had noticed the elephant in the room, the small quiver of her lips and her shaky intake of breath had taken everything away for a split second before she rebuilds her barriers.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Once again, fear.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>⚜ • ⚜ • ⚜ • ⚜ • ⚜</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>And from what Sherlock Holmes always says, the stage is set.</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>After reading the letter and making sure the lovely landlady was out of earshot, Adler makes her move. The Woman walks long strides towards Holmes' quarters and kneels to peer under the bed. She pulls out what seems to be a standard large white box which would often be used to store women's gowns. During their trip to various shops yesterday afternoon, while Holmes was forced to pick her clothing for the remaining days of her stay (payment for her burnt clothes from the fire), Adler had made sure he didn't know if this particular purchase.</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>She takes off the lid and eyes the dress, tinted as black as night while the diamonds that shine would represent the stars above. Then, her previous thoughts had finally come running back. This game had dragged her in, thus making her one of the pieces. Is it worth seeing the winner? Irene contemplates over her chosen ally. Though, knowing the fact that she wouldn't be safe if she would plan on staying longer, they'd pay a great price for her head for what she's done in the past.</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>But to run away and never to come back? Would it hurt him if he knew what she didn't like admitting?</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>Irene shakes the thought to the back of her mind and starts to free herself from the blue dressing gown Holmes was generous enough to let her borrow for the night. And all by herself, she thoroughly works on her hair in her usual updo then after was her corset and suspenders in one quick graceful move. With putting on makeup, she made sure she didn't look as vulnerable as she currently was, supporting the powerful facade with her usual blood shade lipstick.</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>Once done, she takes out a coat with the same color as her dress and proceeds back in the living room, only to stop halfway, remembering how his dressing gown had secured her during this spring season. Irene looks back at the blue dressing gown, then her eyes shift to the pen and paper by Sherlock's messy desk.</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>'No', one side of her commands. The rule was not to get yourself too comfortable in the game. To play along until one was granted what was asked and get out of England as soon as possible. To help the winning side. But, is this the right path that she's taken? Or has she been clouded with so much... Sentiment? The word stings just from being said in her mind, as true as it was, she promised that he wouldn't know.</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>He didn't need to know.</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>But the rules could be bent.</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>So with a long intake of breath, she rushes to the messy desk, takes both pen and paper then stops to think of what to write. Would she like this last telegraph to be obvious? Straight forward? What had driven her to even write a letter while all she's to do in the end was break him? The consulting criminal had given her a chance for victory, a chance to love a man. Godfrey was a good man, but is he who she's been looking for? Maybe. But, again, denying the ache of her heart would mean to see the great detective as... Nothing. And no one wanted that.</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>Adler then makes up her mind. She writes down what is need to be said, and ends with something she would want him to remember her by. In addition to her letter, she takes out her recently taken photograph and finally secures the letter with the seal. Irene then rushes back to his quarters, neatly folds his dressing gown, and settles it by the bed, with the letter tugged under it. And upon seeing the rose that came along Godfrey's letter, instead of keeping the rose to herself, she thought it would be more memorable if she had represented herself using the said flower.</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>And finally, she exits the flat, careful not to step in the spot where the creaking would start, remembering each false step that Dr. Watson had made where the old wood would respond.</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>Once outside, she is greeted by the familiar back carriage and hops on without a second thought.</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>• 🌹 •</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>"Ah! Irene, my love!" Godfrey greets and Irene had offered him a smile the man knew was a fake.</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>"Mr. Norton," she greets while the woman had given him a small kiss on the cheek "So, are the preparations done for tonight's show?"</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>"For you my love, I will make sure of it. But I don't seem to think this is necessary."</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>Irene let out an uncertain laugh "... Whatever do you mean..?"</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>"Even if it'll look as if it's just your last performance in this theater, what if we were found out? What would the consulting criminal say? He will know by then that we have broken his rule."</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>Oh, she's thought of this outcome. Many, many times before she requests to have her last performance without Sherlock ever knowing it. Adler knew Moriarity already knew of this, but he seems to still not take action. And who would miss this for the world? The last they'll see of London's favorite rose, Irene Adler.</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>"Oh, darling," she coos with the voice she uses during her now previous dominatrix occupation and passionately kissed the tall lawyer for a short while "It would break my heart if you'd take my last chance to look at the theater."</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>Norton chuckles "Ah, we don't want that to happen, don't we?"</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>The couple kisses one last time before the man leads Alder backstage.</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>Ah yes, they are a couple. A rich lawyer and an opera singer who had met long before knowing Sherlock Holmes. They were arranged to be married to each other by both parties and it seemed that Godfrey had not minded the thought of spending his life alongside the young woman presented by her father. But, in this time, to Alder, it was only to get away from her father and have a higher position in her life. She was known for being just another woman who little girls had looked up to. However, under that beautiful smile and grace, she was much more of a danger. It had driven Norton to liked The Woman more, knowing that he's the same, and Adler hadn't bothered with having his presence ever since.</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>Until they were found out by the fearsome Professor Jim Moriarity, who had pulled them inside a game they have not been aware of ever existing. A game between different men but seemed to be like in a way they'd feared. Their role was to break a heart. And it seemed Alder and Norton were right for the job, only Irene had slipped and played her cards wrong.</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>But now wasn't the time to dwell on such matters. She had given him the envelope with the same files, written him a letter that stated everything would make him end this case she hadn't been willing to be opened, and now to spend her last remaining hours in England with the people that had looked up to her.</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>The curtain rises and she starts to sing her written song. Oh if only he was here to listen to this. If only they had met in an alternate world where they were both ordinary, or even something more, without anyone being in harm's way. But on the contrary, it wasn't like that. And she has to live with that.</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>Once her performance was done, Irene was offered numerous claps and cheers from all who had attended, their encouraging delights had included offering her those red roses that had been her very own representation to the public. Beautiful, independent, young, and strong. Adler took her time to bask under the cheering crowd and took her final bow, finally making her way backstage.</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>She sees Godfrey and he takes her hand in his, urgently pulling her with him out of the theater at a hurried pace. Outside, they call out for a cab, only to be greeted by a woman who had an unmoved expression, closest to a doll. And she is reminded of one man in the whole of England who was the same as her. The girl hops out and stands not so near them.</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>"Miss Adler, is it? You are instructed to come with us."</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>Adler then feels Norton's hand tighten around hers "Th-There must be a mistake here, Miss Adler and I are simply headed back to her home-"</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>"Mr. Norton," she says firmly, cutting Norton's words, "It is only Miss Adler who was called and I think she wouldn't mind you await her to your place of transport for the duration of time. I can assure you, this meeting wouldn't take too much of your time."</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>They take a pause. Irene takes a glance at Godfrey, his tight hold now trembling and his breathing intense. He catches her starting and loses his hands from hers, turning his heel to walk away but not until he had spoken to her before she took a step towards the cab.</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>In a deep, and dark venomous voice, he says "I told you it would be a disastrous idea."</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>• ✉ •</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Mr. Holmes I think we need to talk."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The Woman smirks and held both of her hands in front of her, her previous facade and barrier once again rise, offering a great challenge for him to crack once again. What is The Woman's purpose? He feels his chest ache, his breathing pattern destroyed, his jaw works, while his eyes couldn't leave her own.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"So do I, there are several aspects I'm still not clear on-"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Not you junior, you're done now."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Adler then cuts him off, her eyes looking past him and to his brother who was behind, she's avoiding him, but still unmoved by his expression which by now is reflecting what his heart was going through this moment. Frustration, turmoil, and most of all betrayal.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Betrayal? Why was he feeling betrayed?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Her devilish smirk grows "My, my, I thought I was invited by one of the famous actors or actresses tonight." The Woman then walks towards one of the armchairs near the fireplace and sits down "I must say, I'm quite disappointed."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"<em>Hmph</em>, and you think this game is over?" The older Holmes curtly replies, venom visible in his words.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"When is the <em>game</em> ever over, Mr. Holmes? We've all been playing our roles, but the conflict in this is on our sides. Just two evils, fighting for what they think is right. What an awful world we live in, wouldn't you agree?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sherlock could hear the frustrated sound Mycroft had let out, could feel the wheels in his head turning, thinking of ways to fix the mistake Sherlock had neglected, given the thought of the woman who quite possibly was surrendering to the logical side if this game with Moriarity. But on the contrary, he was wrong about her once again.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Holmes was much deep in his thoughts that he starts to walk away beside his brother, pacing the room with slow and trembling steps while at a complete loss of what he had thought about her change of heart. He walks up, not too far behind The Woman, away from her line of sight so she couldn't have the pleasure of seeing his defeat.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"It seemed like you thought we haven't noticed, Miss Adler." Mycroft made his voice known to everyone in the room "Your plan to escape wasn't quite impressive. You had the real files in your possession, though, I didn't think you'd stay."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The Woman arches an eyebrow, supported by both questioning and a mocking gaze "Well, I thought it was best to see England one last time."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Now, enough with your sport, where are the real files?" Mycroft spat, his face contoured to expressing much more contempt for The Woman who sits on one of his armchairs as if she owned the Manor. As if she had won this game.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Gone." She pestered, though she made it sound so true. "Far from here in the hands of my lover. I am to meet him after this dull meeting"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A lover..? The younger Holmes could feel the glance the older had offered him for a short period and soon glares back at Miss Adler. He couldn't blame him. He felt himself crumble into pieces with every word that goes out of her lips. Neither of them had made it better for him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"How is this... <em>Lover</em> in on all of this?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Well, I couldn't take all the credit. I received aid along the way." She then spared a glance to the detective who stood behind her.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Ah, Godfrey Norton, sends his love."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>With that single word and a sharp intake of breath, the thought had dawned on him and all the dots had started to connect. The last piece to this puzzle. A card that was never meant to be used. The crack in the lense.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Ah, the wealthy lawyer, we've heard of him. Much like you, he seems to also misbehave, as you so likely want to put it."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I had all this information and never knew what to do with it. And thank God for the consulting criminal." Adler's tone, rejoice. As if she'd won. As if he hadn't noticed the fault in her game.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They were discussing something behind the muffled noise his ears make to block all possible sounds to enter his head. At first, the possibility was vague for it was The Woman, Irene Adler, an independent and strong-willed woman who almost brought a nation to its knees If it wasn't for her oversight. He would've gloated, or smirked, or laughed in triumphant of his victory of proving his superiority in the situation and that he is above all irrelevant human error. But why couldn't he? This was the perfect win.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>'You know why.'</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>An unknown whisper spoke inside of him. Though before it could penetrate his mind, and without much choice and thought, Sherlock had blocked all indications of where his actions would lead him and that hopefully, his response to Mycroft's little statement of her plans that was colored in disdain would be for that matter alone and not for the whispers. It was all for naught.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Checkmate, it would seem"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He feels Ms. Adler smirks and nods in appreciation to Mycroft and took it as a compliment. But before The Woman was to make her escape, she needed to be told.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"No."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The younger Holmes had felt the sudden freeze both his brother and the dominatrix had performed. His brother was no doubt surprised by his sudden statement while The Woman remained unmoved, brilliant, and naive of her supposed dominance over this matter.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The Woman responds, still holding up her bold smile "Sorry?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And here he hadn't realized how his eyes had closed. But with the fire that burned inside of him, not to show off, or gloat, but something more had developed itself.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I said no..."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Before turning his body to face the both of them and walked into The Woman's personal space, into which he had noticed how he towers over her, he grimaces at her question. She was beginning to be affected by her victory.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Very, very close, but no. You carried away. The game was too elaborate. You're enjoying yourself too much" Sherlock almost spat his words. Any proofs of his vulnerability were the last thing he wanted her to know in this situation. So he remains stoic, cold, and watched her unfold.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And he hated how she couldn't see it. And why couldnt she see?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"There's no such thing as too much." Her answer came out the same, teasing and bold.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>But each step he took towards her, his beating heart in uniform with each of his stride. He felt the world around him make sense and fall all at once. This was meant to be. And he knew it would sting.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Oh, enjoying the thrill of the chase is fine. Craving the distraction of the game, I sympathize, but <em>sentiment</em>?" Sherlock felt his face molded into something as if to mock and to express his contempt of the subject and how he wanted to show that he was above all emotion. He feels his brother finally able to piece everything together.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Sentiment is a chemical defect found in the losing side." He continued, making sure to inserting much venom in his words.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Sentiment? What are you talking about?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"You."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And there it was. Any other person in London who wasn't as keen as him even in those very small details of human reaction which for example this one; the evaporation of the playful smirk on her lips, the widening of her eyes, and the trembling breath she slowly took in. Vulnerability was the hypothesis, fear was another, and the conclusion was Realization. And she made it so very clear just from the small crack she had left unnoticed. And as quick as if it never had been there, though, with small traces of it, she attempts to build her walls higher.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Oh dear God... Look at the poor man..." she responds, without leaving his line of sight, with a shaky and uncertain inhale "You don't actually think I was interested in you..? Why?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ah, the speech to guard or to protect one's precious information. He knew that but <em>why</em>? Why had she done it?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nevertheless, she continues her argument "Because you're the great Sherlock Holmes, the clever detective in the funny hat?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tries as she might in bring up her walls higher, but knowing that it had already been crumbling down to her feet was making her effort seem futile. She hadn't given up. And it was up to him to make her known to the truth that she has to. The situation had only made him feel guiltier.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"No..."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He responses using a soft tone and as if he had a secret to tell, something only she was to know and no one else. In a way it was true. Because if it wasn't for his hand that had made his way to her wrist, his shift towards her ear as he whispered the answer to her question, which Sherlock could see spinning inside her beautiful mind, he needed her to realize her mistake.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Because I took your pulse."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The younger Holmes couldn't help but have flashes of what had transpired in his flat just from the fragrance of her perfume. Yes, that small amount of time was... Sudden for her to reveal such crucial evidence to him, knowing as he'll see it. But for a brief moment, and if he hadn't looked back at the memory and leave it as it was, an act of... All of England would fall. Her manipulation and how she dangerously risked stepping over a line that would mean her downfall, maybe having to think that she wouldn't fall and it would do nothing. Or change anything but it did. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Elevated. Your pupils dilated."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He announced, still close to her ear. This was the closest he had stepped inside her personal space. Taking in everything he could. Her trembling breath, the silent pumping of her heart, the elegant part of her neck, collarbone, skin tone, then there was her scent–</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sherlock took a sharp gasp, shifting himself away, and turns his back on both The Woman and the two men he had almost forgotten were present in the room. He mentally prepares himself, not planning on giving her the upper hand this time.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I imagine Doctor John Watson thinks love is a mystery to me, but the chemistry is far more intimate and very persuasive. When we first met, you told me that disguise is a self-portrait- how true of you. Your plans– this game you play, chess, isn't it? A favorite game of yours you said. Really not a fan, that's why it took time for me to notice. The Americans that ambushed us, the Pawns. They said 'killers' after you, probably Moriarity's men, the Rooks. With Mr. Norton's role, he is the Knight. Moriarty, the Bishop. And you, the Queen. But then, there are the files, the King."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He walked towards the chessboard placed by the nearby drawer, with its pieces left unmoved from the last game, snatching the King piece from the board, he plays with it, tossing it to the air, and catching it with his hand repeatedly. He finally faces The Woman who had followed after him from behind, with pleading, watery eyes. But it never did leave his own.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"The piece to be protected, unharmed, and unmoved. Being the Queen, the strongest player on the board, it was your role to protect it. Oh, but being the king was far more intimate, isn't it? Not only was it just the King but it was your heart, and you should have never let it rule your head."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The younger Holmes took a pause, observing every emotion she did not try to hide. Irene Adler, the outstanding Opera Singer, the beautiful actress, an independent woman, brave and bold, the Dominatrix, and London's favorite rose. That was what she was seen through the eyes of the ordinary, a woman. But to him, now, she was entirely an open book. Easily read, overflowing with emotion.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"You could've just walked out of here with everything you've worked for. But you just couldn't resist it, could you?" Sherlock gave a quick mocking grin "I have always assumed that love, was a dangerous disadvantage." After one more toss, he tightly grips the piece in his fist, and said: "Thank you for the final proof."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Although, before placing the wooden chess piece back down to the board, The Woman caught his wrist with her gloved hand, her grip firm yet it still trembles. His eyes shift downwards to stare, the contact alarming him somehow. She was begging.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Everything I said... It's not real. I was just playing the game..."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I know." His free hand then hovers over her gripping hand, and gently yanks it away "And this is just losing." And with a loud thud, from all the anger and betrayal shaping inside of him, he places the lone King on the wooden table, to which The Woman had flinched, with a sharp gasp, and had closed her eyes. He could see her body tense, her chest falling and rising two times faster than her normal breathing pattern, and that she froze on her current position.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"How is this deduction of yours relevant to the case, Mr. Holmes..?" Asked the King who was seen utterly confused with all his shared information. In his peripherals, he sees his brother awaiting his response.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sherlock then takes a deep breath, walks away from the Woman, reveals the envelope, and held it in his hands. "Ah, well, let me do the honor, your Highness. Ms. Adler had planned on offering me a fake copy of the files, which is also sealed in the same brand of the envelope but what she doesn't realize is that, out of all her thinking and sentiment she had mistakenly given me the original. You can see it is, judging from the crumpled sides of the item in the ends and to the side, often conveying that the envelope is often held. She might have only said that it was gone to express fear towards us, hoping for everyone in this very room to look down in defeat and make her escape alongside her... Lover, that is, Mr. Norton, if I'm not mistaken? Though don't bother with what I've said before all this, I was only correcting Ms. Adler's error."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sherlock then moves away from Adler and tosses the brown envelope to his brother who had caught it without a problem, inspecting it, checking if what his younger brother had said was true. Under her long lashes, The Woman was seen watching her protection be passed to another.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"There you are, brother. I hope this pays for all the inconvenience I may have caused you tonight."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"It certainly will..."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Also, lock her up, and find Mr. Norton. Otherwise, let her go- I doubt she'll survive long without her protection."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sherlock sees Mycroft look up, shocked from what he's heard yet nods. Though before he had fully turned his heel and walk out of the study room, he feels her hand, once again, grabbing him through from the arm and pulls him back to stop his escape. Sherlock turns and is once again met with her silver-blue colored orbs.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"You've walked into deep waters, Mr. Holmes." She warned, her voice trembling and she still spoke in a whisper "Please... This is not what I want to remember you by."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>Please..?</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The detective shakes the thought of her truly surrendering. Allowing himself not to be deceived by The Woman again. As much as he had cared to admit, he had not thought of her having the ability to reach his mind and manipulate it so easily. Ms. Adler has a mind of a Strategist, maybe being dangerously close to Moriarity, which he had greatly recognized her for. Though, if it wasn't for her to put her heart at such a risk to achieve her goal, she would've won.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"But that's the game, isn't it?" Sherlock loosens her grip from his arm. He can never let himself be deceived by this again. Not by her. Not by anyone.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"To see the end of the game, one must simply know when you are truly beaten."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He then sees The Woman's furrowed brows abruptly relax, her breathing returns to its usual pattern, and her facade once again in high defense. While he was back to being the detective solving an enigma. Adler then hides her face by gazing at the wooden floor and wipe her teary eyes with her gloved hands, then straightens any wrinkle of fabric on her black dress.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Yes, I'm afraid you're right." The younger Holmes notices her voice return, bold and teasing "Well then, I'll be seeing myself out. It was... A pleasure of having the opportunity to play this game with all of you."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The Woman shares a gaze with everyone in the room and finally bows down to Sherlock. She continues to make her way past the detective and disappears into the corridors past the vast wooden double doors of the room. The three men are left inside, basking under the silence and the sound of the envelope being examined by Mycroft and the King standing to his feet to look at the files while Sherlock occupies himself with the chessboard, arranging the pieces to their respected positions. He examines every piece, admiring the well-orchestrated game The Woman had laid out for everyone involved. Even though she was offered assistance by Moriarity, she had almost won in the end. A game all just for protection.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Well, everything seems to be in order. These are the original files..."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The younger Holmes smirks at his little victory in the three days of this game. How he was so relieved to have bested another formidable rival. Though when he had heard the rustling of papers stop, and his brother takes a deep breath, Sherlock began to question himself.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I... Incredible..." The king said in disbelief that it freezes Sherlock's hand halfway on placing the Queen chess piece down the wooden board.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Sherlock..." His brother then calls and the detective turns to look back at them.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"What is it now?" He asked, irritably. Had he missed something, again? "Well?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Yes, this is the original files of the queen and from her previous scandals, however," Mycroft paused and breathes out the sigh he might have been holding on for too long "The king's photograph... It is the only one not here."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sherlock's eyes shot wide "What..?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>Impossible.</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"It would seem she had segregated it from this envelope. And had intentionally given it to you..."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"That's... That's absurd! Why would she do that? She had every opportunity to ruin England and get her protection through this, so why leave the files and take the photo instead?" He was lost, once again. Another dead end, played by The Woman. When does her game ever end?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Well," Mycroft says, now calm and had put aside the files on the table "I guess both parties are even now."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"<em>Even</em>? How is <em>this</em> even?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And with that, Mycroft returns to his mischievous grin and aloof self "Ms. Adler had made it perfectly clear, dear brother. She has surrendered to us and she will no longer bother England, but in exchange, she will have her protection granted, even if it from a simple photograph."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>There wasn't anything to be said after that. Even her supposed defeat was part of the plan after all. To misguided them from the small victory she had made, to make sure she still had the upper hand. Irene Adler knew the photographs weren't much of an exciting case for the great detective so she took something else to get his attention. The game had started there. Then she makes her grand escape once her enemy has the thought of having the upper hand. And this is where her game ends. Checkmate, indeed. Her mind was glorious.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Oh, what a woman! I dare say she is quick and resolute! She would have made an admirable queen! A pity Ms. Adler isn't at the same level as me..." The king cried tho with fondness despite losing a game over a woman who wasn't royalty.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sherlock then places the Queen piece down gazes at the doors she disappeared from, though his eyes unseeing. And then he replies with his voice almost to a whisper "From what I have seen of the lady, she seems, indeed, to be on a very different level to your Majesty..."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Mycroft and the king then share a glance "I'm sorry, did you say something...?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Ah, nothing..." The younger Holmes waves his hand, implying that what he had just mumbled was not worth their while. And he thanked whoever God watched them that they had not heard it "Though, I must apologize for failing the goal of the case, your Majesty. I should've been more observant."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"On the contrary, detective,” cried the King; “knowing that lady Adler has the photographs and hopefully she wouldn't use it against me at this time, as long as she is left alone, my secret is safe.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sherlock eyes the king and simply nods "Ah, I'm glad to hear that your Majesty says so..."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Yes. Me. Sherlock Holmes, I am and forever will be in your debt. Do name your price and I shall offer it to you. Or I could reward you with this ring..." The man then starts to remove his emerald snake ring from his finger and held it out from his palm to the younger Holmes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Though before he could say more, the moment Sherlock sees the ring he was already on his feet to walk away "Do not bother yourself, your Majesty, for you have nothing to offer me that I would value more highly– Goodnight." He spoke fast to get the last word out before slipping out into the same corridors of his brother's manor, his thoughts still with The Woman and how she had never failed to surpass his mind.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>• ⚜ • ⚜ • ⚜ •</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Shortly after the events that had inspired inside the manor, Sherlock Holmes returns to Baker Street by a cab. He makes his way to the door and looks for his keys in his pockets. And once had found them, as if right on the clock, he notices a peculiar passer-by who had walked from somewhere of his right side. Though he had shaken the thought until the person had hurriedly said:</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Good night, Mr. Sherlock Holmes."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And his hands freeze mid-air again. He swiftly looks behind him and searches for the said passer who had wished him a good night. Several people were walking past him but that one voice had caught him by surprise. For he's heard it before.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>But now wasn't the right time to delve into a random individual. Everyone wishes everyone a good night, why would this one be different? He finally inserts his key and walks inside. The whole building was silent, telling him that Mrs. Hudson was fast asleep and that Watson had not yet returned. He hangs his coat by the rack and proceeds to the stairs only to stop at the fifth step from the smell of smoke. Ah, so the fire has been out. He thinks to himself and continues his way up the stairs.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He did not know if it was the fear of seeing The Woman in his flat, sitting by Watson's chair, or standing by the window that had made him stop once the detective had smelled another sent in the room. Specifically, of The Woman's. He takes slow and careful steps inside his flat and sighs in relief as he sees no one in his loving and that it was clean of her. Still, her perfume lingers and he could not do anything but to follow, which had to lead him to his bedroom. He dares say that he had not anticipated seeing anything but his fixed bed and his valuable blue dressing neatly folded. Ah, he had forgotten, she had worn oftentimes that he did not bother counting. Was it three times a day or four, plus the times during her sleep? </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He shakes such irrelevant thoughts and proceeds to observe the room. So far she has not left a single trace of her but when he had looked back to his dressing gown, he sees a corner of a paper sticking out of its color there. Sherlock reaches out to it and notices how The Woman had not bothered to put it in an envelope, only to leave it folded. He opens the letter and reads the first words he sees.</p>
<p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>My dear <strong>MR. SHERLOCK HOLMES</strong>, </em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p> </p>
<p>The detective suddenly looks away from the letter as if it were the sun. She had written his name in elegant cursive letters and it seems to continue throughout the whole letter. Why was he scared? A letter from her is not to be feared for. Had she written this before she had left England or before going to the manor? He didn't know and he could care less, he didn't need to care. He only needed to read this.</p>
<p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>I wanted to congratulate you on finishing this case in person but it would seem we have run out of time. You truly have astonished me with your ways. Though, fear not about the photograph of the king that I had taken with me for insurance. I do not plan on using it at this time, only if he had planned on taking advantage of me.</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em> That would conclude my letter. I have left England with my lover, Godfrey Norton, to which I am to be married in the coming days. I hope what I have caused you wasn't much of an inconvenience throughout those three days of being with you.</em>
  </p>
  <p> </p>
  <p>
    <em>Truly yours,</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em><strong>IRENE ADLER</strong>.</em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p> </p>
<p>Sherlock Holmes has finally seen the end of this game. There nothing left to be said, he had known what he needed to know. The detective had not realized how his hand began to slowly fall to his side and he supports himself while he sat beside his dressing gown. He still stares at the letter, reading it again and again, more specifically when she had mentioned that she was to be married to the wealthy lawyer, Mr. Norton. He never did picture her as a bride but he didn't bother pushing the thought away this time. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>His mind begins to notice the other two items under the collar of his dressing gown. First, he pulls out the rose, bringing it to his nose, and then there was a smaller piece there. Ah, it was her photograph. The detective holds the letter in his right while he held her by his left. He takes in everything that it shows. Even though there were only two colors to be seen, the image of her that made a place inside his head had brought out their color. Irene Adler, her hair neatly tied up without a single strand out, and her lips with the shade of blood...</p>
<p> </p>
<p>— "So, what of The Woman?" —</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Sherlock Holmes had not noticed his eyes were closed. And there he was again, in his flat, sitting on his armchair with his friend Watson in front of him. They had just finished the Ricoletti case (The Abominable Bride, as Watson had written in The Strand) these last couple of hours and it would seem he had succumbed to telling him of what had transpired while he was away on some occasions. And he hoped he hand not told him much more.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Sorry, what..?" He asks again. How long has his mind traveled back to that day?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He hears Watson sigh "I asked about Irene Adler. What happened after she's left the manor and taken the photograph?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ah, so he hasn't said much, it would seem "Nothing. She had not made herself known after."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"So, you wouldn't be able to see her again?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Why would I want to see her again?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The army doctor then smiles and mumbled to himself "I didn't say you did..."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Holmes sighs, visibly irritated of knowing where the conversation would take place next. So he stands up and makes his way to his violin's case, pulls out the instrument, and began to adjust its strings. Watson watches his friend and wanted to ask a question. And as always, Holmes curtly asks what it was about, stating that he could hear him thinking loudly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Watson sighs "Nothing it's just... She really hasn't left you anything other than the photograph I saw in your watch? Anything at all?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Watson then witnesses Sherlock acting as if something had dawned on him for he had stopped from adjusting the violin strings. The doctor waits patiently until Holmes was finally placing the instrument under his chin and said: "There is something more than she has left when I had returned that night..."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Ah, and what's that?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"... A letter." He says as he raised the bow to the strings.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Watson nods and his brows furrowed "And what did it say?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Holmes's hand stops before he had started to play and he takes a deep breath. It made Watson think, was he thinking of what to reply, or was he preoccupied with something else—?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Good night, Mr. Sherlock Holmes."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>His reply had stopped his friend's train of thoughts. Holmes's back faces Watson so he wasn't able to see his friend's frozen expression that expressed both shock and sadness. The phrase could mean anything but it didn't escape his mind that it could lead to something The Woman wrote before she was taken to her death. Watson catches himself before his drink slips off from his fingers and he clears his thoughts. Sherlock finally plays a tune, only it was something familiarly melancholy. Ah, this tune. So, it was for her. Watson thinks and he only watches his friend play it several times.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>But what John Watson doesn't know is what lies inside the detective's mind. And to this day, to Sherlock Holmes, she is always The Woman. But he couldn't help but have that lingering question inside his head.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Will he ever see her again?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>To be continued...</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>A/N:</p>
<p>I had to add these two chapters bcs if they ever did make a reference in the up comning chapters, then everyone gets to understand. Again, Kudos, Comments, and Shares are appreciated :))</p>
<p>Thank you for reading the secon chapter! There's more on the way!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Memenro Mori pt. 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A/N:</p><p>Rated M for this chapter due to description of violence and death.
You have been warned.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>| London, 1896 |</strong>
</p><p><strong>— 3 weeks after the </strong> <strong>"Abominable Bride</strong> <strong>" </strong> <strong>case —</strong></p><p>
  <strong>| Earlier, Midnight |</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>It was like another frigid February night. The street lights begin to lose their light and most of the passers-by had finally retreated to the comfort of their homes, greeted by their families, while the streets of London had surrendered to the quiet night. Most women with decent lives or a family to attend to have long since got back to their house, while some of the men were still with their friends, having a couple of drinks with their group of friends by their favorite pub down the road and only to head back home during midnight. Those were the adults, to the youths, it was quite a risk.</p><p> </p><p>A young 22-year-old man had planned to celebrate his engagement with his friends while his partner had done the same. The man had an inkling of the idea about drinking in an ungodly hour, but still, he had no time to say no as he was dragged into the pub. They had a good time. The group of men had talked and teased about the future that will soon come upon their friend whose face had gone amber in color, from his intake of beer and his friends' remarks. They went on and on with their conversations and soon planned to head to their respective home. Though they had a good time, he hadn't thought of how much of a lightweight he was. Now he was to head home alone and drunk to the extreme. He had only hoped to be able to see his fiancee and let himself be taken care of by her instead of his friends tonight.</p><p> </p><p>With his vision blurred, his head spinning, his knees weak, and the fog that would often occur at the current hour, he couldn't quite make out of where he had been waddling this past couple of hours. The plan was to head over to his fiancee, but where in bloody England was he? The only thing that has kept him on his feet was the love of his life and a brick wall that seemed to have been going on for far too long. Was he walking into an alleyway? The man was not certain. </p><p> </p><p>And as if on Que with his sudden pause to steady his heavy breathing under the freezing air, and in an instant, he hears another shoe step onto the shallow ground. He slowly peeks from his hunched shoulders, in attempts of searching for a good soul to help him continue on the road. He felt his hands shake, the cold winter had begun to rule over his entire being.</p><p> </p><p>And with a shaky breath, he calls out "H-Hello..? Is someone there? Please, I... I would appreciate it if you would assist a man walk to his fiancee's house..? I do not have enough strength to walk another length without your aid..."</p><p> </p><p>The man had surprised himself by his voice. Rough and almost closest to a whisper. Though he waits for the same footsteps to ascend in his direction. And so they have. The young man chuckles and lets out a breath he never knew he held for too long and patiently waits for their stranger to help him.</p><p> </p><p>The good man had his arm up to his shoulder and the other hovered over to the other side to support him. The man was strong it would seem, for as if his weight hadn't mattered to him as he carried him along. He fought over the urge to close his eyes and rest, he wasn't going to believe this man was as strong as he thinks, so he still lets his legs catch up this the man's long strides. Though he was thankful for this act of compassion, the man had remained silent the entire juncture and It made their situation more uncomfortable. In attempts to pass the moment, he pushed his bibulous mind in attempts to talk soberly.</p><p> </p><p>"Thank you for this, good sir. I will be forever in the debt of this kindness you show upon a drunken youth such as myself. Do tell, how I could repay such acts?"</p><p> </p><p>He hadn't known what was wrong. Were his words of gratitude too polite? The man was an adult, so he needed to be respected. Was he disappointed and only been forced to help him out of mercy over his current state? He greatly understands, he was disappointed in himself too, getting tipsy in an hour like this. He had waited yet the man still kept quiet.</p><p> </p><p>The young man pursed his lips. Should he stop talking? "Anywho, are we almost there yet? To my fiancee's house-?"</p><p> </p><p>The man abruptly stops from his long strides and shares a small glance at the man he carries as he cut through his words "... You are to be married?" he asks with a surprisingly low and soothing voice that women would die for.</p><p> </p><p>His voice cracks at his first attempt to speak and repeats his response "Y-Yes, sir! Her name is Katherine, th-the sweetest woman I have ever laid my eyes upon!" he began to stutter. It would do him no good to stand outside any longer. And how was this man not once shiver under the cold?</p><p> </p><p>"S-So, if it isn't much of a bother, sh-shall we continue walking?" he asks and he hears the man... Chuckle? What was so amusing? Did he sound interested in him? He had made it clear that he was devoted to a woman. And it was the last thought in his head as they once again walked, only this time, his pace felt different. He had started to walked hastily.</p><p> </p><p>Now it didn't feel right at all. At first, this man was going easy with him, taking his time to let the young one keep up with his steps and carefully carries his body. While now, it's as if he'd put up all his strength to carry and walk faster than he had liked.</p><p> </p><p>"S-Sir? Could we walk a little slower? I'm afraid I can not keep up with you-"</p><p> </p><p>"There is no need, I am carrying you. And you see, it's faster this way."</p><p> </p><p>"I understand however, I do not have the right mind and feeling to keep up-"</p><p> </p><p>"Oh, don't you want to see your sweet Katherine?"</p><p> </p><p><em>Katherine?</em> He repeats inside his head.</p><p> </p><p>"Yes... Yes of course-!"</p><p> </p><p>And when he responds he is then thrown down to the hard shallow ground in a loud thud. His body had fallen hard and he grunts then winced at the pounding pain he feels on his shoulder. Nevertheless, it helped him refocus on his surroundings, and he takes everything in. Ah, now this, is the alleyway. He was taken very far from the streets, and now they stand at a dead end. There was nothing present other than him and this tall man looming above him, his face remained under the shadow of his tall hat. He also wore a coat and possibly a suit inside as he wore slacks for pants and neatly polished shoes. This was a decent man. But why had he been taken here?</p><p> </p><p>His breathing quicken and tremble with his entire body out of sheer panic "Where... Where are we? What is this?" he asks, his eyes unable to look away from this man he thought of good things.</p><p> </p><p>And when he had not spoken, the young man attempts to stand on his feet, using the wall for support once again. Though, before he could fully rise, the tall man kicks him by the stomach, hard enough to draw blood from his mouth. He grunts in pain as he stumbles back down. He felt the man grip his face and cover his mouth with his hand, a grip hard enough to leave a bruise. Though weak, he struggles to pull his stronghold from him, hearing himself attempting not to sob in front of this thug. But still, he pleads. Again and again, mentioning his beloved Katherin in his prayer and soon the tears make a path down his cheeks.</p><p> </p><p>"This would have been an easy kill if I already knew you were the engaged man. But I'll take my chances. After all, I'm being paid to do this."</p><p> </p><p>The man says, his tone humorous though mixed with vicious desires akin to his laugh while he watched him like prey. He couldn't help but beg for him to stop, again, he mentions his Katherine, his desire to see her, and what will be her response after noticing his sudden disappearance. With this said, he thought it would convince his killer to change his mind. But to no avail.</p><p> </p><p>"Oh, you'll see her, soon," he says before he leans towards his ear and whispers the last words before he takes the kill.</p><p> </p><p>"But for now, I think it's time to sleep."</p><p> </p><p>The young man's eyes go wide in fear and had closed his eyes to at least see Katherine one last time. But if it wasn't for the sound of the bins, crashing to the ground, The man couldn't have had the opening to kick this murderer away from him and speed off running out of the alleyway, slightly tripping from a frozen puddle.</p><p> </p><p>He didn't look back and he could never do so for he didn't want to see his killer right behind him and get distracted now. It was the last thing he wanted. The man ran as fast as he can while thinking of a possible way to divert him from the man behind him. So he thinks with his slightly tipsy mind. He knew this street, he's played here when he was in his youth and he knew all the route, every dead end, and every passageway. And then finally, he executes his plan. He makes a few swift turns, making sure he was entering a small or pathways that were full of crates of delivered products for the specific store. Then after a few more turns, he stops behind a wall, panting for air, and tries to listen for fast, heavy steps. When he hadn't heard anything, he chuckles to celebrate his small victory and proceeds to run along to his fiance's house.</p><p> </p><p>When he's finally reached her house that was towering over him, he felt a smile form in the corner of his lips and didn't waste any time walking hastily up the porch steps. It did not faze him when he's seen the street lights all gone out and only the moon made light to the discreet area. His mind was only focused on the well-being of his fiancee as he reached the top of the small steps and held the doorknob in his free hand.</p><p> </p><p>While he had turned the knob and when it had easily opened with a creaking sound from the door's right joints, his body froze and his blood ran cold. Something did not feel right and he needed to know why. Of all the days and weeks, why now? He asks the question repeatedly as he cared less about slipping away from his footwear and continues to run up the stairs and into her bedroom. And when he had opened the door rapidly, sees his wife lying in bed with the covers up her neck. He calls upon her name, softly only intending to attract her attention but to no avail. So he inches his way to her bed and had removed to covers to see a nightmare. </p><p> </p><p>His fiance, Katherine, was disembodied.</p><p> </p><p>Her head separated from her nude torso where the organs were absent except the torn ribs, both arms were placed on each side and the legs below the hip. He starts back away from the scene and holds his mouth shut, stopping himself from throwing up what he had just eaten with a large gulp and refraining from shouting out into the night to stay hidden. He couldn't face it. The killer had gotten to her first. But why her? Why them?</p><p> </p><p>He had then fallen to his knees in defeat and heartache and his eyes had roamed around the room. He had only noticed how the room was filled with writings, written with the blood of his beloved and he cared far too less to read what they say or what they happen to show. And finally, when he stands up to his feet, his eyes then land on the roses that filled the mouth of Katherine. His brows creased as he questions the significance of these flowers but he did not longer with it, only to walk up to the side of the bed and sit while he looks down to his wife to be. The tears start to pour out of his eyes and he couldn't help but let out a sob while he held her cold bloody hand.</p><p> </p><p>And there, he hears the wooden door creak open. When he had thought that there weren't any more nightmares after this one for him tonight, he had already forgotten about the killer after him. Had he done this? Why would he do such a thing? Yes, he was angry, however, the fear still lingers there as the creaking had entered the house. Then his killer whistles a tune. He was familiar with it too. Then he sings the song in a low and sinister voice.</p><p> </p><p>"Wise man says,</p><p>Only fools rush in.</p><p>But I can't help</p><p>falling in love with you."</p><p> </p><p>The slow steps and the creaking wooden floors had reached the stairs as he made his way to the bedroom. This voice was different, however. This was a different person. The one who'd chased him had a scruffy and rough voice, while this had a smooth voice that anyone would die for. But this person couldn't have known where he was. Katherine's house was surrounded by tall buildings and was a dead-end to an alleyway no one would often walk into the night. But this man had found it.</p><p> </p><p>"Shall I stay? Would it be a sin?</p><p>If I can't help,</p><p>Falling in love with you."</p><p> </p><p>His singing stops and he knew why. He's finally reached the room. No, he doesn't want to turn around and see him in a vulnerable state. The enemy would only gain the upper hand in the situation. But how can he be brave? He's lost everything, his fiance massacred in her bedroom. And he knew it was his turn soon as the person spoke in a teasing but cold voice.</p><p> </p><p>"Ah, have I interrupted an intimate moment between the two of you? My apologies, I happen to just take a stroll."</p><p> </p><p>"... Wh-What you you want?" He asked in a shaky voice.</p><p> </p><p>He hears his killer laugh menacingly but short. He starts humming the same bloody tune again as he made his way behind the man, held his shoulder with his free hand, and whispered in his ear.</p><p> </p><p>"Hush now." He soothes and he had done his job right for his fear had just peaked. But then before his vision blacks out, he hears the killer whisper.</p><p> </p><p>"Would you like to play a game with us?"</p><p> </p><p>And from there, everything had gone black.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <strong>| present-day |</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>It was early in the morning when Doctor John Watson had suddenly bolted up from his bed and starts to breathe heavily, sweat making its way down from his head and his eyes wide in fear. These bloody nightmares are going to be the end of him someday and maybe, once he has reached a dark moment in these times, he might actually consider taking a break from his adventures with the great Sherlock Holmes. And with his sudden actions, his wife, Mary Watson wakes up after him, attempting to help him regain his composure. Her little gestures of rubbing his back and whispering small encouragement to him had done their very best and he was thankful for having her as his wife.</p><p> </p><p>They stayed in that position until they heard their child, which they'd named Rosie, crying in her cot. And the day had started there. The Watsons went about their usual morning routine; John goes to the bathroom for a warm bath, while Mary tends the bed. After that, it was Mary's turn for the bathroom and John fixes himself in their bedroom. He then tends to Rosie's needs while Mary fixes herself and afterward cooks the breakfast. They then bask under their peaceful domestic life while they have their little chats with Rosie laughing along with their jokes that she was far too young to understand. And with these little chats, Watson soon steps into a certain subject he had his mind on for quite sometime after his conversation with his closest friend.</p><p> </p><p>"I'm sorry, hold on," Mary Watson says with her hand raised and her brows furrowed "Are you certain it was just as simple as <em>'Good night, Mr. Sherlock Holmes'</em> that was written in that letter?" she had asked, her eyes darting at his own with curiosity.</p><p> </p><p>It was another normal early morning in London. The streets once again busy with passers-by and carriages and the cold winter season is near its end while summer gradually arrives with flowers and trees coloring the streets and another day to start a new. Now, inside the Watsons' residence, he had just finished telling his wife about the most fascinating case he has ever encountered during his adventures with the great Sherlock Holmes. The doctor could never stop himself as it was a surprise as to how it also caught his wife's interest, which had led him to tell anyway.</p><p> </p><p>The case about The Woman, in which John had called "A Scandal in Bohemia" for The Strand, wasn't much like the others that mostly required leg work or someone ending up dead. Though, he wouldn't describe it as a susceptible one, either. It was simply a case that had Holmes' heart as one of its pieces. The detective would never agree to such a statement but he knew his friend had felt the same, only that he had just noticed it just in time before he takes his loss. His friend had established a certain feeling of admiration for The Woman during those times and anyone would be a fool to not notice. With their whole adventure in this case, including the very valuable information he happens to obtain from Holmes without breaking a sweat, the doctor tells his wife everything, and there they are now. Eating breakfast on their dining table, he who tells the story, while Mary asks the questions.</p><p> </p><p>John shrugs and reaches out for his coffee and drinks, he sighs and clears his throat after a sip "Well, that's what he had told me. And of course, there's more in that bloody letter. I just didn't happen to bother asking about it."</p><p> </p><p>Mary lets out a laugh and leans on the table "And you seriously thought that she was dead?" she teased, finding it amusing how John had thought differently about the letter's context.</p><p> </p><p>"Oh, how couldn't I when Holmes sounded so miserable as he told me about her letter?" John argues back. "The man feels strong sentiments for The Woman and he still denies it."</p><p> </p><p>He sees Mary shift and fixes her posture. John watches as his wife had gone silent and had an expression that suggested she was deep in her thoughts. This led John in the dark. His wife was extremely invested in such a topic concerning their friend and he knew why for this was the first she's heard of Holmes care so much for someone.</p><p> </p><p>And while Mary was still in thought, the good doctor had looked over their grandfather clock, drinking the last remains of his tea, kissing little sweet Rosie on the head, and collects his things. Duty calls.</p><p> </p><p>"Where are you off to?" asks Mary who has finally spoken after her long minutes of thinking silently to herself.</p><p> </p><p>John smiles down to his wife "I'm afraid our little chat about The Woman has to end here, love."</p><p> </p><p>And after this, Mary smiles at Watson and stands in front of him, dusting off imaginary dust from his suit jacket.</p><p> </p><p>"Duty calls?" she said with a great dose of amusement in her voice.</p><p> </p><p>Watson nods and waits for Mary to bring Rosie with her before he descends to the stairs. John sighs and strides to the front door while fixes his coat and his hat. He takes one last frustrated sigh "Promise me, you'll stay in the house this time? Rosie needs someone to take care of her when I am away."</p><p> </p><p>Mary stops behind him and gives Watson a soft kiss on his lips and after a genuine smile and a sigh "I promise I won't do anything fun while I'm bored." his wife teased and she lets out a giggle.</p><p> </p><p>He spins to the door and stops midway then sprung back to look at her. Mary then arches a brow, confused.</p><p> </p><p>"One more thing," he asked and held his pointing finger to her "Tell no one about what I said. You know... About Irene Alder— especially Holmes!"</p><p> </p><p>Mary laughs and Rosie follows after "Don't worry, my love! I won't! Run along now!"</p><p> </p><p>John lets out a chuckle and nods to her valid reason. He gives one last embrace to Mary and reaches out for the doorknob. And once he had opened the door to a freezing early February morning and calls for a cab to stop by him. When he has, he hops inside and awaits his arrival at Baker Street and back into the life where danger is always near. It didn't take too long for him to arrive shortly at his desired destination. He pays for the cab and it leaves him walking up to the familiar dark-colored door. And once he had opened it, he'd already sense his friend taking note of his arrival but this time, the building had felt rather odd.</p><p> </p><p>He ascends to the stairs with the same pace and refrains from making a lot of unnecessary creaking on the wooden floorboards on his way up. And finally, he stared upon the door to their shared flat and reached for the handle. It would have not surprised him if the flat was quiet. But the presence of today had felt new. He didn't waste any time swinging open the door and the scene had surprised him.</p><p> </p><p>The flat that was owned by Sherlock Holmes himself was utterly clean. The newspapers stacked on the usually messy desk, the sofa near the door was also clean, the dinner table free from his science equipment, and their armchairs arranged neatly, similar to how he writes in The Strand. He eyes the scotch by the silver tray that stood on the small drawer that belonged to Holmes, but it hardly matters. Watson continues to walk inside, removing his bowler and coat, hanging it then he stops in the middle of the living room to look around more. And When the door from the bedroom had opened, he knew his observations and astonishment had to be stopped before it goes on further.</p><p> </p><p>"Ah, Watson! You are about... Fufty-six seconds late. A new record, I suppose." Holmes had greeted with his sarcasm. He came out of his quarters in his vest while he fixes his cravat en coquille while walking to the mirror hanging up by the mantelpiece, as he walked around the coffee table in the middle of his armchair. John's eyes look at the conveniently placed chessboard on top of the table.</p><p> </p><p>Sherlock finally turns to look at his friend and had caught him in his little observation session. John had also caught himself and felt his friend staring so he had to look up at him formulating a question. Sherlock had now grown irritated and soon walks past Watson, avoiding his prying eyes. And Watson had taken this for a win. Though before he had spoken, Holmes had beaten him to it.</p><p> </p><p>"Stop concealing it and voice out your thoughts, Watson. I presume you have already formulated your question by now." He says as he sat down on his armchair and leans forward to the chessboard. "On with it then." </p><p> </p><p>John smirks and follows suit as he sat on his armchair and he starts to look around. "So, the flat..."</p><p> </p><p>"Mrs. Hudson had suggested I at least help her clean my flat so I would know where everything is put after the cleaning. Next." He answers and proceeds to move his white bishop piece in front of the black knight piece.</p><p> </p><p>"Are you playing on your own?" He asks with a questioning gaze that Holmes had not yet looked upon</p><p> </p><p>"Yes." And he moves a piece again. "Is that all?"</p><p> </p><p>John had stayed silent for a second while he looks at his friend. Holmes finally abandons the chessboard when he had felt the eyes of his friend on him like a hawk. The younger Holmes's eyebrows furrow and the detective leans further in his armchair, waiting for him to continue while he was still minding his next move in the chessboard. Watson eyes both the game and his friend trying his method of reducing this reoccurring scene in front of him until he had finally concluded.</p><p> </p><p>"Right, uhm..." He paused thinking and rethinking his next words. "Why do you seem so open about this?"</p><p> </p><p>"Whatever do you mean?" He had asked quicker than he thinks his friend had intended for he's caught his familiar habit of shifting in his seat.</p><p> </p><p>"This– This game of chess," Watson replies and points to the wooden board.</p><p> </p><p>"Yes... and what of it?" Holmes had replied once again with his sarcasm while he had once again diverted his eyes back to the game. Another habit of his that would suggest him defecting a subject he need not be discussed between them.</p><p> </p><p>Watson smirks and sighs, frustrated by his friend's futile attempt to cover up the obvious truth "I'm going to make a deduction."</p><p> </p><p>Holmes quickly looked up to the doctor and paused, only to nod a second after "Sure. You may proceed."</p><p> </p><p>John fixes his position in his armchair, relaxing his body and mind and replicating the detective's familiar pose with his hand wide and finger clasped together under his chin. And he felt triumphant of how his friend had reacted, showing signs of frustration while still not looking at him. Holmes abandons his pose and both his hand's braced in either side of his chair. John takes a moment to bask under his victory and finally speaks.</p><p> </p><p>"You're not just <em>playing</em> chess, Holmes, you're merely studying it. And I think it may be for... Strategic purposes?"</p><p> </p><p>Watson had teased quite enough and he contains himself not to laugh out loud when his friend had stayed silent and his mouth forms into a pout. Ah, but of course he would be studying chess. The game itself was one of the aspects that represent the one woman who had beaten the man and if it wasn't for her excellent and dangerously orchestrated performance, the board game would simply remain just a board game. Being it her favored of all pastimes, Watson noticed how Holmes had also found it quite enjoyable to examine and form a strategic plan. The doctor understands. Oh, but how he enjoyed seeing Holmes express himself by doing something people may think as a normal thing for someone like him. They knew so little while John knew so well.</p><p> </p><p>Before John makes another remark about the detective's heart, they hear the door opening from below and hurried footsteps, running up the landing. The little boy, Billy Wiggins, had made himself known and he rests himself by the door frame of the flat. Sherlock then stands from his seat and made his way near the little boy who had idolized him for some time with his friends. The boy still pants, suggesting he had run from a very far location.</p><p> </p><p>"Telegram, Wiggins?" Asks Holmes and when the boy nods, Holmes made a beeline towards his quarters while John made his way to the boy to retrieve the letter.</p><p> </p><p>Watson opens the letter and nods to the little boy, inviting him to sit down on the long settee near the door while he collects his hat and his coat once again. Sherlock finally emerges from his quarters wearing the very familiar checkered green Inverness cape and his deerstalker hat. He walked towards the doctor and the little boy who rests by the sofa while he fixes his black leather gloves.</p><p> </p><p>"The telegram is from Lestrade, I presume?" The detective spoke, once again regaining his confidence over the matter at hand unlike before.</p><p> </p><p>"Oh, yes! He had asked us to go to the outskirts of the streets of London. And a minute and a half ride if we pay the coachman maybe... Six hundred pounds?"</p><p> </p><p>"Right then! Ah, finally a case!" Holmes suddenly rejoiced, as if he hasn't been taking small cases after the Abominable Bride. "Wiggins, you may rest in the comfort of this flat and Mrs. Hudson who will discover your presence within a minute or so."</p><p> </p><p>The detective smiled at the little boy and immediately descends from the landing to the stairs and John follows suit and got on his trail after he gives his small farewells and gratitude to the boy who simply waved and whined from his tired state. The detective and the army doctor finally made it out of 221B's interior and off they go in February's early freezing breeze. </p><p> </p><p>"Come now, Watson! The game is afoot!"</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>To be continued... </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank for reading the thrid chapter of this thrillig story!</p><p>Kudos, Comments, and Shares are appreciated! &lt;3</p><p>Keeps safe, everyone!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Memenro Mori pt. 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A/N:</p>
<p>This chapter is rated M due to the description of blood and gore.</p>
<p>You have been warned.</p>
<p>And if you ever notice an unfamiliar name mentioned through the course of the story, it's just me adding people.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They indeed promised to pay their coachman six hundred grand to ride faster than the proper speed for the busy streets if they made it fast as the exact time Holmes had specified. The carriage had brought them to a part of London in which the buildings were old and the air had felt gray. This was a part of London, wherein factories stood and where some trains reside. Holmes had only deduced from the stolen glances he gives from the carriage's window while he also spared an eye to the time. Which he had rarely done while Watson was present.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And after a long ride, Watson has finally spotted their friend, Inspector Lestrade leaning by a wall, smoking his cigar. When told this, Sherlock had shouted for the coachman and the carriage was brought to an abrupt halt, they had nearly bounced off from their seats as they hear the horses let out an almost cry of protest while the passersby had whined about their sudden appearance. The pair steps out of their carriage and hands over the money promised and the cab finally rides off into the distance. The inspector then finds them in a sea of people but had decided to wait for them by his wall and they walk towards the man.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Good morning, Inspector!" Watson greets with a nod and a quick smile. The Inspector had returned the kind gesture lazily and almost out of breath from the way he puffs off the smoke from his lips.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"So, what might be it about this time? And why are you standing in the middle of the streets? I assume you aren't off duty." Watson continues, who happens to have had a pleasant morning ever since he had left the flat. While Holmes took the time to look around the streets.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>When Lestrade hadn't spoken, with the man only heeding to his cigarette and while his body ever so trembles after a puff of smoke, his sudden body language and silence had raised the detective's suspicion along with the doctor's. The man was once this scared from the last case, which was the Ricoletti case, which Watson soon called "The Abominable Bride" in The Strand magazine. The case was relatively fresh in the minds of those who's heard of the case and for those who were also involved, and it wasn't much of a surprise to them on how it had brought an enormous amount of fear upon the Inspector. But seeing his state now suggests that what was beyond the alleyway was more than just a case. The detective had thought of this, however, he also wasn't sure of what lies ahead. And of course, his friend notices, how his gaze had skimmed over his direction indicates that there was a growing worried feeling inside his chest that drew him to ask.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Lestrade..? Is there something wrong?" asks Watson and his words seemed to have drawn the man out of his train of thought where half the first second he had acted as if he had just noticed them now. Then in a split second, he was stuttering.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The man then pulls his cigar from his mouth shortly "O-Oh, I'm sorry uhm... Right- you were saying?" He said, utterly distracted by the current case. An obvious homicide case.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Watson's brows had creased and this time, Holmes had spoken before him "You sent that boy Wiggins to give us a telegram concerning the case at hand. A homicide, I presume?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Lestrade spared him a small glance before he shook his head and carefully pushed himself off the wall, consuming more of his cigar and the detective scuffs "Really, Lestrade? You've lived half of your adulthood looking at corpses in the morgue and you still tremble with this one?" He spoke meany.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>To this, Lestrade cared less more to puff out the smoke he had just engulfed when he argues back "Easy for you to say, detective, you don't usually feel awful for those corpses." He spoke with an average amount of animosity.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Holmes once again scuffs at the man and said nothing more, letting Watson take over the matter he needn't proceed to discuss. "Right, where did the homicide take place?" He asked.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Lestrade took one last inhale from his cigar then soon drops it to the ground and steps on it and made a heavy exhale "Right this way, doctor..."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The Inspector then walks inside the alleyway and the pair follows behind him, Holmes being at the very back of the line. Their journey through the closed gap formed by numerous buildings that had nearly touched the other grew quiet by the second. And in the comfort of it, Holmes decides to start his deductions. More alleyways were leading to another, the supposed man, judging from his running pattern, that ran through this way obviously knew his route around the area. The man could've easily lost the killer, so how was he to follow his prey?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Inspector, can we have an overview of what had happened last night?" Watson then asks, once again throwing the Inspector back into reality.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Ah yes! Well, this one didnt happened at midnight but we can't say for sure about the time. Anyway, a man in his early twenties had just been drinking along with his mates and walked the journey home by himself while he was tipsy. His friends said they were merely celebrating that night he happens to tell them he'd be going home alone."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"And I assume he was hunted by the murderer when he took his leave from the bar?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Yes, we also had our theories for the matter."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Both men were occupying themselves with what had happened to the man after he left the pub near the alleyway while Holmes stayed quiet, continuing with his deductions. The detective had looked up to the building tops, looked to the ground, and he touches the wall deliberating on how the man had escaped or nearly escaped his demise. In his mind palace, he watches on how the said man might have made his way through this alleyway and why he had chosen it. Normally, a man who would know the area that they are currently entering into would make a perfect strategy for his escape, and this was exactly what their victim had done however the detective felt that there was something more to it than just that. Every decision has its purpose and in situations such as this, the man had decided on one objective and it was not to run where, but to who.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They were nearly at the end of this space when Holmes had finally stopped from his tracks. His halt had alerted both the men in front of him however they did not share the same look in one's eyes. Watson had looked at him with worry while Lestrade was expecting to hear something from him that he well knew would make him eat his last words about the current homicide case. But it wasn't much of a concern to him for a somewhat stench in the air had alerted the man at such a great distance. Knowing how outstanding his senses were and how he would never doubt himself again, this had been earth-shattering information. And Lestrade knew that he'd notice it first before his friend.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Is there something the matter, Holmes?" Asked his friend who had walked slightly towards him, looking for his answer.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"The air..." He said unconsciously and while his head had now been clouded with gruesome images.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Watson slightly leaned backward, still confused about his unexpected reaction "... What about it? I don't smell anything." He said while he looked from behind him and beyond them.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Holmes ignored his friend's question and looks up to Lestrade "Where are we going?" He asked, almost out of breath.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"It would be better if I show you," Lestrade spoke and unlike before, his tone had changed from irritation to sympathy. "Come on, we're almost to there." And with that, the Inspector continues to walk before them with heavy steps.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Watson watches the man for a moment before turning back to his friend "What happened? What have you gathered?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And as if he had been brought out of his fearful thoughts, Holmes took a long inhale and attempts to regain his composure, his shoulder finally relax "Irrelevant. Let us not make the Inspector wait any longer." Holmes then walks past Watson and did not wait for him to follow after, already hearing his friend's footsteps on their way.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>With more walking, they had finally reached the end of the alleyway. They've let Lestrade walk ahead of them and see him making his way to the side, making way for the detective and his assistant. He hadn't even taken a step out of the alleyway hen he had already felt the intensity in the vicinity. Yes, a murder had taken place here, but he hadn't expected to feel this chilliness. He wanted to convince himself that it was just the cold air of the early February morning however this was the contrary. He takes another step forward so both he and his friend could finally face this lovely home that had been turned into a slaughterhouse overnight. When John had exited the alleyway, words were about to cut his mouth until he had also smelt the stench that had clouded his expectations.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Dear Lord, what on earth is that smell?" The doctor cursed as he had tried wiping the unpleasant smell that might have lurked too much under his nose.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I think, my friend, I may have spoken ill about this case," Holmes said while he eyed the towering building.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>This was just a typical house, however, it seemed as if this was the only one blooming with life than the others tinted with ashen grey and black. The house was colored in sky blue for the roof and yellowish-white that dominated the color more. There were a few potted plants by the door and outside the windows and the door had been colored indigo with the number 740N painted in gold like any other decent house in London. Moreover, the house was a family house ever since the current owner was a child, suggested by the house's size and structure. And judging from these aspects, the owner was a woman in her early 20s, a little close to the age of their victim. This wasn't so much of a safe house to go hiding in so why had their victim ran this way?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Ill? How so?" Asks Watson, again pulling him out from his mind and deductions about the house.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I think we'll be finding out soon enough. Inspector, please, proceed on with the report about the case," said Holmes who had then taken long strides towards the front of the house and had soon slowed down, taking time to reduce thoroughly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Right," the Inspector starts and he clears his throat "Our first victim's name is Scott Douglas, a factory worker and another worker for our trains. He's a twenty-two-year-old man. Lived by himself after his parents had passed and left only to fend for himself. His friends had said he was with them before they got separated last night and they haven't heard of him since then until the news had reached them. An old woman had said that she was hearing voices and laughter when she had taken a nice stroll. Knowing that it wasn't the owner, she goes to check, only to find that the door had been left open. A break-in, it would seem. There, she decides to call the police." </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The detective nods along with the man's report while he spots the obvious clues left by the police such as by the front door. There wasn't a break-in. Holmes had his eyes fixed to the door, seeing that the handle wasn't damaged and neither was the lock. From what he'd analyzed earlier in the alleyway, the man was running from something and happens to enter this house. But why hadn't he bothered closing the door? Holmes was then gestured to head inside first and he pushes the door carefully though it was evident enough that it would creek, judging from how old the house was itself, having little changes in interior and exterior design except the noticeable frequently changed position of the furniture that greets them in the living room.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>However, inside, the stench intensifies. Forensics had resided, defeated in the living room, talking away to their colleagues with crossed arms, tensed figures, and low voices where one of which is Philip Anderson, one of Scottland Yard's forensics. He sits on one of the white armchairs, slouched while his hands held the armrest as if it meant his life, and his eyes gaze to the hearth though they remain unseeing. He wouldn't have moved if the Inspector had not called out to him. The man jolts up from his seat, attempting to look unfazed and composed in front of Holmes and Watson. He visibly showed signs of anxiety and uneasiness, making his efforts futile.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"H-Holmes! Watson? What brings you here..?" He says, his forms formed into fists on his sides.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Holmes lets the matter slide with a sigh and Watson replies "We were summoned upon to investigate this murder. So, if it isn't much trouble, what can you tell us about what you've found?" The doctor gave the man a friendly smile and Anderson's anxiety had only increased.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Regardless, he only responds with a nod and finally leads them up the flight of steps that Holmes had taken his time to make his deductions. Their victim had ascended hastily taking two steps at a time he notices as the shoe prints were left by the carpeted steps and minor scratched on the painted walls. The detective was getting more irritated by the stench, and knowing that it was most likely blood, he dislikes the thought of how messy it would look up the room they will venture into as they follow behind Anderson with his friend and the Inspector. Once up the second floor, it is where Anderson crossed his arms like the others and leans by the wall near the room of the scene of the crime. With the door closed, Watson gave him a look of suspicion, his brow creased on his forehead.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Through there..." The man said and he seems to dared touch the door.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>With his final word, Watson reached out for the handle and swung the door wide open for more room to enter. Upon being first to witness the scene in front of him, he couldn't do anything but walk inside and look all around the room.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Dear God..." Watson whispers and Holmes was next to enter the room, unfortunately, regretting to accept this invitation.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He enters the room and the first thing he sees is the crimson blood splattered all over the walls, windows, the bed, and the floor of the chamber as if a child was left alone in the room surrounded by buckets of blood-red shaded paint buckets and had the whole day without supervision. The room was almost filled with flies, buzzing around as they flew in the room and when Holmes walked towards the bed with care, there he sees it, their missing victim. While the woman was disembodied, Douglas's body was whole. And for further inspection, he carefully reaches pit for the man's shirt and lifts the fabric to his chin, and had concluded the worst that what he had initially thought was right. Not only was this man still whole, but he was also very empty inside as the killer left with his organs while he almost left the victim's bones untouched, only to spread the ribs nearly apart to extract his insides.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He hears Watson let out another curse and Holmes finally lets go of the corpse's bloody shirt. His body sat perfectly on the bed while he held the woman's severed head in both hands, while her other parts were spread and disturbingly displayed all around the man as if it was his toys or toys displayed in a toy shop. Holmes backs away carefully as if one wrong move would shift the room into a different form. He returns beside his assistant and had not let his eyes drift away from the corpse as if it were to move, though his body tenses and his hand tightens its grip to the point where he swore it would drawing blood. Though before he had concluded his brief scope of the room, his eyes land on the words written in the blood of their victims which he had only noticed now.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>| <em>Would you like to play a game?</em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>From behind him, he hears Anderson talk, still outside leaning by the wall "No one had the strength to come in this room without starting at the corpses... I am certain you wouldn't need to deduce why..."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Holmes desperately did not want for this scene to cloud his mind and follow him everywhere, so he had tried to push it at the very back of his head. Taking a moment to great and close his eyes, only to open them one's he's set, the detective looks over the doctor with the same determination flaring in his gaze. Watson gazes at Holmes with his eyes wide and filled with fear, however, it didn't take long for the doctor to give his friend a firm nod and held his gaze beyond them, with a heart of a doctor and a detective's assistant. With this, the curtain rises and the show is back in session. What Anderson and the other forensics couldn't continue, they will see to it that the nightmare ends.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Doctor Watson finally gathers the courage to face the disembodied woman and the man's corpse. They finally hear the Inspector walk up to Anderson and converse with the man in a whisper. Once done, he also walks inside the room, and observers while he formulates his theories.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Inspector is there more that we ought to know about Sir Douglas and Miss. Williams's?" asked Watson.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Well, like I said the boy was a train station worker in these parts of town. We asked the people that knew him, says that he was a good man, would often think of others first before himself they say. Also a shy one. While Miss Williams was a lively woman, she–"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"She often travels with her father and mother in different parts of the world when she was young- a very peculiar family bonding if I do say so myself. now she rare;y travels and if so, she would travel by herself, quite possibly because of the divorce that happened recently between her parents- I'd say about a month ago, I presume. Now that she has plenty of time for herself, she looks for a job- now Miss Williams is a nurse. The house is a vacation house, she bought it not long after her parents' divorce. yes, she isn't from this part of town, which suggests that she's from the rich. Miss Williams is also a single child. And I believe she soon meets Mr. Douglas by the train station, possibly on his way to work as well."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Holmes concluded after taking precisely a minute to walk around the interior of the room after he glides his fingers across the wall where there is no blood splatter and takes the room's sent into his system. And as usual, his assistant and the Inspector look dumbfounded, even Anderson had finally looked at him from the doorway. Holmes makes a small triumphant smirk and continues with his observation of the room as he now glances up to the ceiling.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He hears Watson sighs and his breath caught in his throat, he stops examining Douglas's a sign that realization has dawned on him "But... Lestrade said the man was a worker in the factory nearby. Mr. Douglas lives near the area, he didn't need to take the train to go to work."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Precisely Watson!" Holmes said sarcastically "Which means the man is an office worker. he got promoted, I'd say a month ago as well. Inspector, you would mind changing the report to avoid misconceptions."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"O-Oh I will. And what gave it away that Mr. Douglas is an office worker and not a factory worker as of late?." Asks Lestrade who had taken his place in the room near the windows.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"His way of clothing. The worn-out slacks, shoes, white shirt, and suspenders suggest his attempts to look presentable for a strict boss. A reason why I made this job of mine."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Right, anyway," Watson says as he finally stands in his full height "both corpses are checked. And I'd say that Miss Williams had died first. The Body felt colder and Sir Douglas comes next. And his death seems odd."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The statement catches the detective's attention and he looks away from his observation of the blood on the wall "How so?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"His body's temperature. Sir Douglas's is warmer which suggest that he had died maybe about 3 hours ago while Miss Williams suggests 5 hours ago..."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"And?" Holmes curtly asks, his brows furrowed "What are you trying to suggest exactly?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And once again, the courage of a soldier had vanished now conquered by fear "W-Well, from your reputation, I presume you've felt the blood?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Yes, of course, I did," Holmes says while he made his way to the small round table by the window. "The blood's very much dry. I'd say it was left this way for about 5 hours..."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The detective drifts off from his sentence, abandoning the train of thought and finally boarding into another as the realization came to him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"The death was instant."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>With this information, Holmes had abruptly dashed towards both corpses and made his observations. He removes his dark leather gloves and held one wrist after the other, a very different way of feeling for temperature from before as of late (for a reason he dislikes admitting to himself). And yes, their temperature was contrary to the blood splatter across the wall. his eyes roamed more, taking each and everything he had found. He finally finds composure and he lets out a sigh he seems to have been holding for quite some time.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I noticed how Miss Williams and Sir. Douglas had seemed not to suffer their demise. As if they had welcomed it?" Watson says from behind him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"But that's bloody ridiculous!" argued the Inspector "Why would they accept it? They didn't really have much of a fight, they were mostly mistreated by a bunch of blokes, but they seem like cowards! I think it's safe to say that they were apprehended silently?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Exactly," said Holmes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"E-Exactly? So I was right?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"... Almost. But thank you for your insightful theory because it seems like this engaged couple is drugged." Both Watson and Lestrade had their mouths agape and had stayed silent for a moment</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"So... that explains the..."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Yes," said Holmes as he had finally taken a step away from the master bed "That is how their bodies are clean of any injuries to stop them from escaping. With a simple killing drug, they were able to kill and display them like dolls in a toy store with ease. And as for the said method of display, it's obvious this wasn't done by just one person."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"The mastermind has an accomplice then?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Indeed. One was to inflict the drug while the other was charged both to disembody and take their organs."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"And they would go about their way to buy a large number of roses just for this display...." The inspector then grunts, frustrated with the shared information while he attempts not to vomit with the images of the possible process of the display. "But what does it even mean? These roses. Surely they didn't really place this for design."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Of course not, it is clearly a warning. And I believe everyone in this room is familiar with the term <em>'Memento Mori'</em>?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Watson and Lestrade shared a look of concern while Anderson had turned his head to look inside the room, having a shocking realization to which Holmes smirks in his small victory of once again being the only one knowing the situation first.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Memento Mori was a Latin phrase that meant "Remember that you must die" which was to remind an individual of their near-inevitable death. This one, however, tells them if they were not to move fast, their final target would be killed and that they would intend to kill until they have solved this case. Holmes scoffs at the thought of their mastermind and James Moriarty. They were similar, they liked the games they start, however they were far worse different. Moriarty was patient, he did not thrust for blood but the thrill of his game. Their mastermind was out of his mind as he orders his accomplice to kill and keep his own hands clean of the crime. And oh how he must have looked up to the infamous Jack the Ripper. There was no mistaking his methods, he liked a game that consisted of challenges and blood as he clearly did not care for the late.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He sees Anderson swallow a large gulp as he paced inside the bedroom slowly while looking at the bloody floor with his arms crossed to his chest "Th-This isn't Moriarty again, i-is it?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"No, of course not– the man jumped off a waterfall. No one could survive such a thing." Holmes argues curtly.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Watson let point a heavy sigh and said: "So, they intend to kill a random pair until we... Find out who he is?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Yes, but first, we must find out who's his final targets. Once we do, he wouldn't be able to hurt them."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>All three men Holmes was accompanied with nods. Anderson then returns to his space by the door frame to lean once more, while Watson's eyes gaze back to the engaged pair by the bed.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Letrade then whines and then adds "Those psychopaths really had outdone themselves with this one too, haven't they?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Too? Whatever do you mean, Lestrade?" asks Watson and the thought had also caught the detective. "This is a second murder? How on earth was Scottland Yard not informed immediately after the first one?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Lestrade then takes a heavy sigh "Both murders were reported... at exactly the same time by two different people. I've gone there myself, the same display was created, but in the living room by their hearth."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Well, have you put your people to question them? Surely they could possibly be the mastermind and their accomplice!" Watson continues his argument.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Yes, of course, I questioned them! Not to worry though, if Holmes was to look at them he'd say the same." The inspector gave a frustrated look over Holmes and he understood it completely.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"But we can't just keep standing here, we should also head on over there—!"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Watson." Holmes cuts off his friend's argument, alongside a firm grip by the arm. Postponing his desire to dash out of the room.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"What!?" Watson then said, almost in a whisper and a shout if he had not stopped himself.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I very much understand your worry for Mary, if you really know what is best for her at this very moment, I would highly suggest we finish our observations today. And you can safely return to Mary tonight."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Holmes gently lets go of his friend and was thankful to see that Watson has regained his composure.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Right then," Lestrade was first to break the silence as he cleared his throat "Are we nearly done in this room?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Almost. Inspector, I would like to request several photographs of this, the case file, and send it straight to Baker Street." He sees the Inspector nod and pulls Anderson with him as they descend the carpeted stairs. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The room then was left quiet with Holmes and Watson proceeds to look around more. At their last minute with the corpses, they finally observe the roses, planted inside Katherine William's mouth that was also inside of her disembodied torso and the message on the wall that is written in blood for part-time as they wait for the Inspector to call them back.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Though with the previous discussion still raw in the minds of both men, Holmes wasn't able to withstand Watson's continuous sighs of frustration. So the detective finally calls out.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"If there is anything you wish to say, Watson, I suggest you voice them out instead of keeping it to yourself."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Hm? Oh, right! Uhm..." The doctor pauses and he clears his throat. As he had opened his mouth, Holmes did not wait a second for his friend to speak and had won his chance over.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Not to worry, Watson." He says as he held his hands behind his back "Feel free to go straight to Mary when we leave this dreadful house for I also wouldn't be staying half of my night in Baker Street."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Ah, I see..." The doctor nods but suddenly, the meaning behind his words dawned on him and Watson finally looks up to his friend "And why is that?" He asks suddenly with his eyes beaming with a reason that was beyond for the detective to comprehend.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"I was.. invited by Mycroft to a gathering which I am needed. At first, I had refused but I rather think it would serve as an advantage."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"And you think you could find the mastermind and his accomplice within those guests, hidden in plain sight?"</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"We shall see." Holmes finally ends with a smirk that Watson had also shown.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>With the doctor back in his control and seemed to be in high spirits, he and the detective finally takes a step out of the room before the Inspector had the chance to go inside to inform them of the agreed terms, though he still speaks as he followed both men back down to the living room, out of the house, and out of the insufferably lengthy alleyway. Holmes and Watson had finally then taken opposite paths, with Watson to his home while Holmes to his own, traveling at different speed and arriving at different times.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>With Holmes finally back in his flat, he removes his deerstalker hat and hangs his Inverness coat beside it. Then he takes a breath in of his flat and lets the air out once more. Holmes then strides towards his dark oak wood closet, opens it, and is greeted with his battle armor for the coming event for the night, with a letter inside its breast pocket that he had immediately thrown into the hearth after he reads it with a scowl painted on his lips.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>| <em>I had made the courtesy of visiting your quarters. I hope you'd at least wear what I have prepared for you. And do behave, dear brother.</em></p>
<p>
  <strong>- M Holmes</strong>
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